


Wasn't Expecting That

by sthlmsyndr0me



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Harry Styles - Freeform, Harry and Louis love eachother so so much, Just as much as in real life, Liam Payne - Freeform, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Niall Horan - Freeform, That's how I roll - Freeform, They're just normal and non-famous, alternative universe, but imo the ending is quite bittersweet, it's really cheesy but pretty cute, not a happy ending tho, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:26:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8398000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sthlmsyndr0me/pseuds/sthlmsyndr0me
Summary: Harry and Louis acting out the lyrics to "Wasn't expecting that" by Jamie Lawson.If you've heard it, you know the storyline.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this idea for quite a long time before finishing it, way too long for such a short fic tbh. I usually hate sad endings (and I lowkey hate myself for this too) but at the same time "wasn't expecting that" by Jamie Lawson has really touched my heart and inspired me, ever since I saw him as supporting act for the boys during OTRA.
> 
> Special thanks to Jeanré for proofreading it, you're a champ!! Also thanks to Harry and Louis, whom I never grow tired or writing about.

The first time Louis laid eyes on Harry, was at a party. He couldn’t quite recall what kind of party it was, only that it was during his last year of uni, and that he was utterly confused. Louis thought he knew everyone at campus – he was somewhat of a social butterfly – but he had never seen this young man before. Long, muscular legs were squeezed into tight black jeans. A flat stomach and chunky hips peeked out from under the grey t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders. But while his body was indeed very attractive, it was the man’s face that punched the air out of Louis’ lungs. Clean-shaven with a chiselled jaw, and plump pink lips. Big, jade-green eyes, chocolate locks that framed his face, and – were those dimples? The beautiful man had dimples, and it was only when he realised this, that Louis discovered that the man was smiling at him.  
  
Louis felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment at being caught ogling. But before he could do anything to cover up his indiscretion, the man closed the few meters of distance between them, still smiling.  
  
“Hi,” he said. He had a low, slow voice, blending like milk and honey in Louis’ ears.  
  
“Hi,” Louis answered, smiling goofily. It was awfully awkward, no matter how many white wine spritzers he had in his body. But anyhow, he was still content with having the man’s attention fixed on him.  
  
“I don’t know many people at this party,” the taller man observed, pointing around with his glass of red wine. “I just came here with my mate Liam. Who might you be?”  
  
Louis clucked his tongue in theatrical disapproval. “My my, don’t you know? What a nice change of pace, not having my reputation exceeding me. I’m Louis Tomlinson,” he said, stretching out his hand. The man took it, his hand warm and soft, and the handshake firm.  
  
“I’m Harry. Harry Styles,” he said.  
  
“Hello Harry, Harry Styles,” Louis smiled, cursing himself for being so cheesy. “Where are you from?”  
“I just transferred from Manchester actually, might be why I’ve missed everything about this fascinating Tomlinson-lad,” he winked, still holding Louis’ hand. “Care to fill me in? I would hate to be left out.”  
  
“I’ll teach you everything you need to know, young Harold, follow me!”  
The liquid courage suddenly made itself known, as Louis turned their handshake into an excuse to lead Harry by the hand to one of the empty sofas in the corner of the big room.  
  
_It was only a smile_  
_But my heart it went wild_  
_I wasn't expecting that_  
  
“Oi, Tommo!”  
  
Louis looked around for the origin of the yelling, dazed and confused. It came, of course, from his best mate, Niall, who was charging towards him as fast as his wobbly legs could carry him.  
  
“Tommo, where have you been all night? Who’s the curly chap?” Niall blubbered, as he stopped in front of the sofa. Louis and Harry were sitting close, telling secrets to the night and to each other. Louis had even sneaked a delicate foot under Harry’s calf and hooked it around his ankle. For some reason, their hands were still tangled, empty wine glasses all but forgotten.  
“What are you on about, mate? I’ve been here all night, enjoying some conversation with the lovely Harry Styles. He just transferred from Manchester.”  
  
“Whatever dude, it’s four am, we’re gonna hit McDonalds on the way home. Nick is throwing us all out,” Niall slurred.  
  
  
Where the hell had the time gone, Louis wondered. It hadn’t even been midnight when he first noticed Harry.  
  
“Jesus, is it that late? I need to find Liam, I don’t know the way home from here,” Harry said, suddenly sounding worried, trying to get out of the sofa but failing.  
  
“Wait for me outside, I’ll be right out,” Louis said to Niall, who scampered away, before turning to Harry again. “The time really flew by, huh?” he smiled.  
Louis stood up, and helped Harry to his feet as well. He had almost forgotten how much taller Harry was than him.  
  
“Yeah, it sure did…” Harry answered softly, biting his bottom lip, eyeing Louis’ face.  
  
“Do you need help finding Liam?”  
  
Harry looked around, relief spreading over his face. “No, it’s alright, I see him over there. Thanks though.”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Louis smiled.  
  
They stood in silence, too close for normal conversation, but not nearly close enough for Louis to be satisfied. He didn’t know what to say.  
  
“I…” he began, not knowing how to continue. Harry interrupted him.  
  
“When can I see you again?” he asked, much faster than anything he had said all night.  
  
Louis smiled, trying not to show the relief on his face. “Give me your phone.”  
Harry complied, watching as Louis saved his number and sent himself a text.  
  
“Soon, I hope, Harry Styles,” Louis winked, playing cheeky again to hide his nervousness. He forgot his act, however, when Harry bent down and kissed him. Just a soft, quick peck on the mouth, the warmth of Harry’s lush lips spreading all throughout Louis’ body.  
  
“I’ll call you, Louis Tomlinson,” he winked back, before leaving Louis alone with his jittery nerves by the end of the sofa.  
  
_Just a delicate kiss_  
_Anyone could've missed_  
_I wasn't expecting that_  
  
**What are you wearing?  
  
_A bit early in the night for that kind of talk innit?_  
  
Haha shut up, just so I recognize you! It was so dark last time, what if I’ve forgotten your face  
  
_Pssh as if you could ever_  
  
True true  
  
_Black polo black jeans and a quiff – I’ll be the hottest guy there_  
  
I know you will, see you soon x**  
  
Louis smiled down at the little x on his phone screen as the train stopped abruptly with a loud screech at the station. He was getting off at the next stop – to meet up with Harry. The butterflies in his stomach told him this was a bigger deal than he cared to admit to himself.  
  
He had been texting with Harry almost non-stop since the morning after their first meet up at that uni party. It was casual, with flirty undertones, but intense enough to have Louis’ heart racing. Harry would text him random pictures throughout the day – a weirdly shaped tree, his lunch, and (Louis’ favourite) perhaps a sweaty selfie from the gym. Louis of course replied only with the laughing emoji at Harry’s red face, rather than share his thoughts on how exactly he could make Harry sweat like that.  
  
It had been Harry who took the step to go on a date, and it had happened on Tuesday.  
  
**Hey btw I have a question…  
  
_One that’s not “is it easier to deepthroat a curved banana than a straight one?” cause cmon……_  
  
It was a serious issue!  
  
_No it wasn’t_  
  
ANYWAY my question  
  
_Yes?_  
  
When can I see you again?  
  
_Not too far into the future I hope! When are you free?_  
  
How about Saturday?**  
  
When Saturday rolled around, Louis made his best effort to look sharp enough to impress this beautiful, funny man. The train came to a halt again and Louis got off, almost skipping up the stairs from the platform, his insides in a jumble. It was not that big a deal. What if Harry only thought of him as a friend? Or if he wasn’t that interested? Maybe he was a player, or… or…  
  
Louis was quickly forced out of his own mind as he surfaced from the underground because the first thing he saw was - Harry. Harry with his beautiful long legs, broad shoulders, extravagant taste – where did one buy clothes like that with a student’s income? – shiny locks and, most importantly, that smile. Harry locked eyes with Louis the moment Louis discovered him leaning against the brick wall of a dingy pub. When they were close enough, Harry opened his arms for a hug.  
  
“Louis, hi!” he said rather enthusiastically, holding Louis in a bone crushing embrace, clasping at the shorter man’s back. “I’m so glad to see you again.”  
  
“Me too, Harry,” Louis smiled, surprised at the honesty, chin lodged between himself and Harry’s shoulder.  
  
The curly haired boy let Louis go, but was still smiling brightly at him.  
“Are you ready to go? The restaurant is just a few minutes that way,” he said, gesticulating.  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Louis peeked up at him, the butterflies in his stomach going from nervous to excited.  
Harry smiled even wider, and stretched out a hand for Louis to take. It practically engulfed his, and Louis had a hard time focusing on what Harry was saying about the food and his day, when all he could focus on was Harry’s pulse point and his large, soft hand.  
  
_Did I misread the sign?  
Your hand slipped into mine  
I wasn't expecting that_  
  
Louis woke up to the sound of bare feet walking across his bedroom floor. He didn't have time to wonder about it before a large frame surrounded him, sneaking cold arms and fingers around his sleep warm upper body.  
  
"Oumpff," he let out a surprised sound, not nearly awake enough to be more articulate. It was still early, the radio clock on his bedside table showed 6.12 am.  
  
"Sorry, sorry, just got up to pee and your apartment is bloody freezing," Harry mumbled, drowsy, cuddling closer. Louis leaned back into it and felt rather than heard how Harry's breathing slowed down and became deeper.  
  
Louis smiled contently, thinking back to the night before. Harry had been a perfect gentleman throughout dinner, paying for their meals, listening to Louis talk, laughing at his jokes. They had sat at the restaurant way longer than necessary, deep in conversation, even if Louis couldn't remember what they had been talking about. All he could picture was Harry's emerald green eyes, his white teeth, and his full lips. The way he dragged his thumb across his chin, and his weak stubble.  
  
Louis smiled wider, turning around in Harry’s arms. Breathing Harry in as he lay on his arm and had the chocolate curls tickling his face with every sleepy snore the man was letting out. He thought of how they had walked around for hours before stopping outside his house after midnight, and how the innocent kiss goodbye had led to Louis dragging Harry inside. He thought of Harry's mouth, tracing fiery kisses all over him, and Harry's hand touching him where he needed to be touched. With the memory of the taller boy over and all around him, Louis sighed happily, nudging his head against the muscular arm he was resting on, and fell asleep again.  
  
The next time Louis woke up, the sun was shining in his face, and he was lying on his stomach, face mushed against the big pillow. Light touches were tingling along his spine, and he squinted up at Harry, who was smiling down at him, lying on his side and resting his head on one hand.  
  
"Good morning," he said brightly, smiling wide.  
  
"Mornin'. Why are you so chipper?" he mumbled, trying to remember how to form a sentence properly, but having a hard time fighting off a grin. It was not an easy task to stay properly morning grumpy when he’s being blinded by Harry’s smile.  
  
“Thinking about last night,” Harry answered simply, kissing Louis’ blushing cheek.  
As Louis turned to lie on his side, Harry slid closer so they were touching from their feet up to their chests. Noses almost grazing, Harry leaned in and kissed Louis again, soft on the lips this time. Louis couldn’t form words.  
  
“I hope you… Don’t regret it?” Harry asked insecurely, having a hard time interpreting Louis’ silence.  
  
“No no, of course not, I’m so happy, you have no idea,” Louis blurts out, stumbling over his words, stroking Harry’s waist. “I’m just a bit overwhelmed and I just woke up. Please stay,” he said, adding the last words in a whisper.  
Harry flashed his dimples in a relieved smile, stroking a thumb across Louis’ jaw before giggling, his cheeks flushed.  
  
“I must say, I really didn’t expect that to happen last night. I thought I might get a kiss goodbye if I was lucky, and the next thing I know…” he said, biting his lip while looking at Louis’. Before Louis had time to draw another breath and ask him about eating breakfast together like he had planned to, Harry was kissing him again, this time not soft and slow, but hot and determined.  
  
Louis forgot about breakfast faster than you could say “full English”.  
  
_You spent the night in my bed  
You woke up and you said  
"Well, I wasn't expecting that!"_  
  
Louis had never been in a relationship like this before. He had never felt this way, or acted this way, or become so enthralled with another human being before. Not until Harry. Harry, who had bought him bouquets of flowers just because Louis mentioned once that he had never gotten any. Harry, who cooked him dinner on weekdays even though they were both studying equally hard and were probably equally exhausted. It was important that Louis ate something else than chips and cereal, Harry had scolded, ignoring Louis’ eyes rolling.  
  
Fact was, that after a few months of dating Harry, Louis couldn’t be sure if he had ever been in a relationship at all before. He had thought he had been, but was it a relationship if you only hung out to have sex and drifted apart in silence after six weeks or so? With Harry, Louis found out more every day. He learned how easy it was to make Harry laugh, a loud, barking laugh that made him look somewhat like a horse, and that was the most adorable thing. It made Louis feel like he was a really hilarious person as well, which okay, he knew he was, but somehow it felt extra important to be hilarious to Harry. The laughter had surprised him the first times, what kind of noise was that, really, but he couldn’t help but try to make him do it as often as he could.  
  
Being the centre of attention as he usually was, Louis could understand why he had so many friends. He was a laugh, and always threw great parties. But no matter how he tried, he had a hard time understanding why Harry wanted to be with him. How he never seemed to get enough of being close, and why he always looked at Louis with those big sincere eyes, so full of honest curiosity.  
  
“Harry,” Louis said one night, as they lay entangled on his worn-out sofa, wearing sweatpants and jumpers with bleach stains. The TV-show reruns were long since forgotten, and Harry’s breaths were calm and slow in Louis’ hair.  
  
“..Mhm?” Harry’s mumbled answer made Louis unsure if he was awake enough to talk, but he pressed on.  
  
“Do you… Why do you…” Louis began, not knowing how to phrase his question.  
Harry blinked his eyes open, eyeing Louis with such attention Louis couldn’t help but blush, and he hid his face in the crook of Harry’s neck. The part just above his collarbones was his favourite spot on Harry.  
  
“Why do I what, babe?” Harry asked slowly, voice like milk and honey, only darker. And a bit raspy. Whiskey and honey perhaps.  
  
“Why do you like me?” Louis mumbled quickly, half hoping that the words were caught in Harry’s hair and never reached his quite tiny ears.  
The taller boy made a strangled noise, and hurried to look Louis in the eyes, scooting down on the sofa so they were face to face. Worried lines in his face and a searching gaze.  
  
“What?” Louis said, feeling stupid for having asked.  
  
“You… can’t be serious?” Harry mumbled, looking puzzled.  
  
“What?” Louis asked again, even more unsurely.  
  
“Can’t you see how lovely you are, Louis?” Harry asked slowly, lovingly. “You always seem so sure of yourself with your friends.”  
  
Louis rolled his eyes a bit. “Yes, but that’s with them. It’s different with you.”  
  
He hadn’t quite meant to phrase it like that, and blushed again, but Harry’s eyes twinkled, and he pecked Louis’ nose. “I sure would hope so,” he said.  
  
Louis lay quietly, gazing up at Harry’s face, counting his eyelashes, when Harry spoke again.  
“Your humour is one thing. And how you always want to help others. And your perseverance. You’re very intelligent. The way you are with your siblings, and how often you call your mother,” Harry said, stopping to take a breath rather than think. Louis was mesmerised. “You always see the good in people, but at the same time you’re not afraid to let people know when they’ve done something wrong. You’re very brave, Louis, and I always feel so safe with you.”  
Harry’s monologue came to a halt, and his smile grew bigger. Louis couldn’t think of a proper response other than to kiss him. Again and again. Forehead to forehead, they gazed into each other’s eyes, being cradled in the other’s warmth.  
  
“Plus, you’re really hot,” Harry added in an afterthought.  
  
  
_I thought love wasn't meant to last  
I thought you were just passing through  
If I ever get the nerve to ask  
What did I get right to deserve somebody like you?  
I wasn't expecting that_  
  
  
“You’re so cute, I love you.”  
Louis stopped in the middle of struggling to get free.  
  
“What… What did you just say?”  
  
It had started out as a regular Tuesday night for them. Louis had come home to his apartment after spending a few hours in the library preparing for a particularly boring exam he was about to have the upcoming week. Harry had greeted him with pasta carbonara – the fact that Harry was in Louis’ home when he wasn’t was such a natural part of their life now that neither of them thought twice about it. Harry usually did his homework there while Louis was somewhere else – they both preferred studying alone (studying together was a fool proof way not to study at all, they had learnt) – and cooked Louis food in time for his arrival back home.  
  
Louis had kissed him while toeing off his worn out Vans, and hurried after Harry into the kitchen, stomach grumbling. Three full plates later he felt like he was about to burst.  
  
“You’re such a feeder,” he groaned, undoing the button on his pants.  
  
“You see right through me,” Harry had smiled. “Go change into sweats and we’ll watch Friends or something,” he added, while clearing the table and loading the small dishwasher Louis had gotten as a Christmas gift from his mother (“I don’t want to see any more mountains of dirty dishes when we facetime, Lou!”).  
  
Louis returned to the tiny living room a few minutes later, with Harry already waiting on the couch, arms stretched out for him. Louis flopped down on Harry’s lap, awaiting kisses, but was instead greeted with tickles.  
  
“What the hell, Harold!” he wheezed, trying to get back at Harry for the very unfair ambush, tickling and poking him wherever he could reach, as they both cried with laughter. Within minutes it had turned into a full-blown war, Harry howling on the floor with Louis straddling his hips, tickling him relentlessly.  
  
“Say you surrender!” Louis demanded, quite positive that victory was his.  
  
“Never!” Harry retorted, and somehow Louis found himself with his back on the rug and Harry pinning down both his wrists. He flailed around trying to break free, but Harry was simply too strong for him.  
  
“You look like a disgruntled little kitten,” Harry cooed, pecking Louis’ cheek.  
  
“I do not,” Louis pouted, not stilling his attempts to get away.  
  
Harry’s dimples grew deeper from smiling. “You’re so cute, I love you.”  
  
Louis stopped in the middle of struggling to get free. Harry’s eyes had grown big in shock, as if he really hadn’t planned to utter those three words.  
  
“What… What did you just say?” Louis whispered, eyes just as big in amazement.  
  
“I’m sorry, I just… I love you, Louis,” Harry said, sounding unsure, worried lines between his prominent eyebrows.  
Louis felt his face break out in a wide smile, and could see it mirrored by Harry’s, just a few inches away from him.  
  
“I love you too, Harry. So, so much,” he said.  
Harry seemed paralyzed with this wonderful turn of events so Louis spoke up again. “Now let me go so I can drag you down to kiss me.”  
  
And so he did.  
  
_It was only a word  
It was almost misheard  
I wasn't expecting that_  
  
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Harry said, just as Louis swallowed his last bite of food.  
  
“Another one? Apart from this amazing meal?” he asked wide-eyed.  
  
Harry nodded.  
“It’s not as expensive and nice as your gift.” His eyes drifted to the Saint Laurent-shirt in vibrant colours that was still lying on top of its sleek black box on the counter. “But I hope you’ll like it anyway.”  
  
Louis rolled his eyes, smiling. “You’re not actually worried, are you? You know I’ll love it.”  
  
Harry didn’t answer, but simply stood up in front of Louis and extended a hand to help him to his feet. He easily tangled their fingers together as he had done a thousand times before, and led Louis to the living room. Harry had lit candles in there too, big white ones in different sizes on silver platters, strewn across the room. Harry’s acoustic guitar, the one with the striped strap Louis had gotten him for his birthday, was leaning against the sofa. Louis’ tongue suddenly felt dry and too big for his mouth  
.  
“Sit down at that end, love,” Harry said, releasing Louis’ hand and pointing at the sofa. He sat down across from him, one leg folded under the other. “Uhm, you said once that you wanted to hear something I’ve written, l-like a song, remember?”  
  
“Of course I do, Harry.” Louis nodded vigorously, insides welling up with emotion already. “Are you gonna play me something you’ve written?”  
  
“Ehm, yeah, I thought so? I call it ‘If I Could Fly Home’. It’s kind of about us, so…”  
He picked up the guitar, and plucked some of the strings, apparently at random.  
  
“Please play it now, Harry, I’m about to explode over here,” Louis squealed.  
  
Harry smiled and shook his head, but did as Louis asked him – as he always did – and started playing.  
  
  
“If I could fly, I’d be coming right back home to you,” the words floated out of him, raspy yet angelic, and Louis’ eyes were already brimmed with tears. Harry didn’t seem to dare looking up at him, but instead focused on his hands on the guitar, while he sang.  
  
As he finished up, the guitar ebbing out, Louis made a noise most closely related to an upset squirrel. Harry looked up in distress, only to see Louis’ tearstained face for the fraction of a second. Then he had Louis wrapped tight around his neck, clutching at his shirt, the guitar stuck between them.  
  
“That was the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard,” Louis croaked against Harry’s neck. “Everything you sang, do you really mean that?” he continued, after an attempt to calm himself a bit.  
Harry let out a shaky breath and nodded, nose squashed against Louis’ collarbone.  
  
“I feel the exact same way, Harry. It’s you. It will always be you,” Louis whispered, swallowing.  
After gently detaching himself to put the guitar on the floor, Harry hurried back to Louis and his embrace, propping him up on his lap properly. Pressing plush kisses to his neck, Louis couldn’t help but practically purr.  
  
“I wanna hear you make those sounds for the rest of my life,” Harry smiled against Louis’ skin.  
  
“Keep it up like that and you won’t have any other choice,” Louis smiled, before shutting Harry up.  
  
_But it came without fear  
A month turned into a year  
I wasn't expecting that_  
  
The scent of hyacinths filled the warm April breeze as Louis stepped out of the hotel, closely followed by Niall.  
  
“It’s a great day mate, you have the weather gods on your side,” Niall chirped, as he ushered them to a parked, dark car a few feet away.  
  
They both said hello and shook hands with the driver before sitting down in the backseat. As Louis was fastening his seatbelt over his black smoking jacket and emerald-coloured tie, the car was started with a gentle roar, and left the hotel entrance.  
  
“Are you nervous?” Niall asked, quite more gently than he usually would.  
Louis thought carefully about it before answering, watching the buildings fly by outside the tinted windows, and he could feel a smile grow on his lips.  
  
“No, I’m really not. I’ve wanted this for so long.” He paused and turned to look at Niall. “We both have.”  
  
Niall grinned back at him.  
“You cheesy bastard, don’t make me cry already!”  
  
It was the twelfth of April, and Harry and Louis were getting married. Finally. Louis couldn’t believe it had been only four years since they had met at that uni party, because it truly felt as if Harry had been with him his whole life. The sense of coming home was never as strong as when Harry looked at him. Louis’ heart was racing, the palms of his normally dry hands were clammy, as he walked up the aisle, gentle birdsong ringing in his ears.  
  
They had, after incessant begging from Harry’s side, decided to get married in a rose garden outside of London. As his nostrils were filled with the intense flowery smell, and the white pebbles of the aisle crunched under his shiny black shoes, Louis was happy that Harry hadn’t given in to getting married indoors. (“It will probably rain, Harry, you are aware we live in England, right?” “I don’t care if it rains, I just don’t want to be shut in when we say ‘I do’. I want the wedding to feel as free as I will feel when I’m finally yours.”).  
  
The sun was shining bright in his eyes, and he had to squint a bit to be able to see properly. They were saying their vows by a bushy archway, strewn with deep red and white roses – all planned by Harry. Louis was impressed with his future husband and his knack for details. The guests were filling up the venue as Louis turned his back to the green arch, and was joined by Niall, coming up from the side. He, of course, was his best man.  
  
“Just a few more minutes as a free man,” Niall giggled.  
  
“Shut up Ni,” Louis rolled his eyes.  
  
“Nah, I’m just messing with you, this is perfect. I’m so happy for you, mate,” said the Irishman, before embracing Louis in a quick but pvery tight hug.  
  
As the last of the guests were seated – Louis’ great aunt and one of Harry’s annoying co-workers – the music began. A soft piano version of Harry’s composition, from that first anniversary dinner. The swooping sensation in Louis’ stomach reminded him that he probably was the luckiest guy alive.  
  
After what felt like forever, Harry walked up the aisle, accompanied by his best man, Liam. Harry was dressed in a black suit and expensive leather boots, an ocean blue satin shirt over his chest, flamboyantly unbuttoned at the top. A matching blue scarf was wrapped around his thick curls, keeping them in place in a loose ponytail. Louis’ breath was punched right out of him with the magnitude of the beauty walking towards him, ready to be his forever. He didn’t think he had ever seen that glint in Harry’s emerald eyes before, or that he’d ever been able to drown so profoundly in his dimples.  
  
“Hi,” Louis whispered, as Harry took his place before him in front of the archway and their wedding officiant.  
  
Harry took his hand, and squeezed it gently. “Hi,” he whispered back, just as the guests were being welcomed to their wedding ceremony.  
  
Months and months had gone into the planning of the ceremony, but looking back at it Louis can’t remember anything but Harry. The way he looked at him, and the way his thumb graced the back of his hand in circular motions. The sun playing over his cheekbones and bouncing of his chocolate locks.  
  
“Now, dear gentlemen, if you are ready to say your vows,” the officiant spoke, pulling Louis back to reality, remembering that he was supposed to go first.  
  
Louis didn’t very much enjoy speaking in front of big groups of people, but as he found Harry’s eyes again, it felt like the easiest thing he’d ever done. Louis let go of Harry’s hand and pulled out a small piece of paper where he had scribbled his vows. But somehow, it felt wrong, and he stuffed the note back in his pocket, before grabbing both Harry’s big hands in his own, smaller ones. He could see a look of surprise in his future husband’s face, but winked at him, and they both broke out in big grins before Louis cleared his throat.  
  
“Harry. I’m so glad I found you so early in my life, so we’ll get to spend so many years together. There is nothing I’m as proud of as the fact that I’m yours. Sometimes I can’t help but think of what would have happened if you hadn’t walked up to me at that party years ago, or if you hadn’t texted me afterwards. What a whole other, miserable life I would have lead, and what a wonderful life I would have missed. Everyday I’m gonna wake up happy to be your husband, even if you’re snoring or forcing me to eat something disgusting like sprouts. And I’m gonna do my very best to make you feel the same way I am, for the rest of my life.”  
Louis smiled and bit his bottom lip, eyeing Harry. A silent tear was falling down the taller man’s cheek, and the glow in his eyes was blinding.  
  
Stealing a glance at the guests watching, Louis could see at least three of his relatives dabbing their eyes with tissues. He squeezed Harry’s hand to show him he could proceed. Harry took out a neatly folded note from his breast pocket, and Louis noticed that his hands were shaking as he read from it.  
  
“Boo bear.” Louis laughed at that, and Harry smiled before continuing, “I can’t believe the day is finally here. I’ve imagined becoming officially yours since our second date. Do you remember it?” Louis nodded as Harry looked at him. “I met you up at work with take away-tea and we just walked around for hours and hours. I don’t know if that even counts as a date really, but I remember realising I wanted all my walks in all the parks to be like that, until I’m too old to take walks anymore. Listening to you babbling about one thing or another, drinking your tea too fast even though I warned you -”  
  
“You didn’t warn me!” Louis interrupted.  
  
“I warned you,” Harry insisted, and it was his turn to wink at his soon to be-husband, as the guests laughed. “I want that. And I want cold February mornings and rainy October afternoons with you. I want your beautiful smile when I’ve cooked something good for dinner, and your frown when your favourite show is cancelled, cause I know I’m the best at making your frowns go away. I want all of you all the time, for as long as I’m lucky enough to be with you, Louis Tomlinson.”  
Louis barely let Harry finish speaking before smashing their lips together in a fierce kiss, probably too passionate for the eyes of their grandparents. He could hear Niall wolf whistle and blushed as he parted from Harry, whose cheeks were a rosy pink.  
  
“You’re supposed to exchange rings before kissing,” the officiant joked, chuckling, and the guests laughed along again, as Harry and Louis turned to their best men to get the rings – thin rounded ones in white gold, with the words “he’s my home” inscribed on the inside. They hadn’t told anyone about that, it was for their eyes only. Plus Niall already gave them enough crap for being “cheesy sons of bitches” as he so eloquently called it, so it was just easier to keep it on the down low.  
  
As they walked up the aisle a few minutes later, hand in hand as husband and husband for the very first time, Louis could feel Harry’s pulse against his palm, and see the happiness radiate from his skin. And he knew, at that time, that their hearts were beating in complete sync.  
  
_I thought love wasn't meant to last  
Honey, I thought you were just passing through  
If I ever get the nerve to ask  
What did I get right to deserve somebody like you?  
I wasn't expecting that  
  
Oh and isn't it strange  
How a life can be changed  
In the flicker of the sweetest smile  
We were married in spring  
You know I wouldn't change a thing  
Without that innocent kiss  
What a life I'd have missed_  
  
“When are they arriving?” Louis called from the kitchen.  
  
“Peter said they’d be here around four, but you know how he is with arriving on time, he’s worse than you,” Harry shouted back from the sofa, watching old reruns of some game show.  
  
“Yeah I suppose,” Louis chuckled, walking back to the living room. “With all those kids though, it’s no wonder it takes time to get somewhere.”  
  
He put down both his and Harry’s cups of tea on the coffee table, and rested a veiny hand on Harry’s thigh. It wasn’t as muscular as it once had been, but for a 63-year old, Harry was still in remarkable shape, Louis mused. He was a lucky man.  
  
“Thanks, dear,” Harry said, and carefully drank the hot tea. “Remind me again, was Anna coming over with the kids too?”  
  
“Yeah, she and Tom are coming too, with Charlotte. I’m afraid Ruby couldn’t make it, but with all that travelling she’s doing, I’m not surprised,” Louis said, eyes on the TV as he drank his tea.  
  
“Well, that what you get for encouraging her to be a correspondent, Louis, we never get to see her apart from when she’s on TV,” Harry said with a wounded voice, but Louis knew he was just as proud of her as he was.  
  
“As if anyone could have stopped her,” he laughed, and Harry giggled along. “She’s a force of nature, she is.”  
  
Harry looked down at his wristwatch – a big one with a black leather strap and gold details that Louis had gotten him for their ten year wedding anniversary almost thirty years ago.  
“I better put the apple pie in the oven so it’ll have time to cool down properly,” he said, and stood up from the sofa with a grunt.  
  
“You are way too pleased with how much the kids love your baking,” Louis said, and mimed along when Harry answered “Well, I used to be a baker” from the kitchen.  
  
“I thought you loved my baking too by the way,” Harry added, poking his head out from the kitchen with a frown on his face. Louis couldn’t help but smile achingly big at that, and got up from the sofa as well, and walked over to him.  
  
“You very well know I love your cooking and baking and anything that comes with you feeding me,” he said, reaching around and hugging Harry by the waist. “It’s a minor miracle that I’m not more of a potbellied man than I am, with the way you enjoy cooking. You know the younger teachers have been teasing me lately.”  
  
Harry laughed, and locked his hands behind Louis’ back as well, and looking down at him. “What? How do they tease you?”  
  
“They say you’re feeding me too good, and always ask if you’ve baked anything new,” Louis shrugged. “If you ask me they’re just jealous that they aren’t retiring soon and doesn’t have a caring husband who cooks for them,” he snorted.  
  
Harry’s smile was blinding. The dimples still made him look so young sometimes. “You sure know what to say to make me happy,” he said softly, before bending down and kissing him softly on the lips.  
  
With how many years they had spent together, it amazed Louis how Harry’s airy kisses still could make his insides flutter. He smiled against his lips as he pecked them back. The noise from a car parking outside made them part and look at each other in surprise.  
  
“Are they early? That’s a first,” Harry mumbled. “You go let them in, and I’ll attend to the pie, dear,” he said, and Louis nodded, stealing one last kiss before going to the front door.  
  
_If you'd not took a chance  
On a little romance  
When I wasn't expecting that  
Time doesn't take long  
Three kids up and gone  
I wasn't expecting that_  
  
“Mr. and Mr. Tomlinson, please come in,” Dr Stevensen greeted them, as he showed them into his office.  
  
It was late July and the weather was far too hot for Louis’ liking. He was sweating a bit in his chinos and thin sweater, but after reaching 70 years of age, he had decided he didn’t want to wear only a t-shirt in public anymore. Harry had agreed with him on this, but as he was a creature of habit he had flaunted out on an eccentrically coloured flower suit in linen. Just the type of clothes that made his grandchildren ecstatic, his children roll their eyes and Louis smile with that fond smile everyone always teased him about.  
  
Louis helped Harry sit down – his hip had been acting up lately – before taking a seat in the chair right next to him, facing the doctor across the desk.  
  
“So, I called you back to discuss the result of your latest tests,” the doctor began.  
  
“How bad is it?” Harry asked bluntly. Louis grabbed his hand and patted it.  
  
“I’m sorry to say that it’s worse than we expected. Not only has the cancer come back, it has spread to the pancreas, liver and intestines.”  
  
The weight of the words just uttered lay heavy over the room. Louis had known it wouldn’t be good news, but not as bad as this. His hands were trembling, and this time it was Harry’s turn to pat his husband’s wrist.  
  
“What does that mean for me?” Harry wondered softly. He didn’t sound worried or shook up, but instead spoke with a calm finality.  
  
“It means that we could pick up the chemotherapy again, but the chances that it would even remotely help are slim. There is nothing much we can do when cancer is this terminal.” The doctor said. Louis hated him for saying it.  
  
“How long?” Louis breathed, not able to speak the full sentence.  
  
“I’d say 3-4 months, give or take. Perhaps 6-8 if you start up chemotherapy again,” Stevensen calculated.  
  
Louis met Harry’s eyes, and saw his own sadness reflected in them. None of them knew what to say, so the doctor spoke up again.  
“We will of course do everything we can to make your time as comfortable as possible. I’ll prescribe a few painkillers and sleeping pills, and if you want we can discuss you staying in hospice for care around the clock?” he informed them.  
  
“No, no hospice. I want to be at home, if… if that’s okay with you?” Harry said, turned to Louis, who smiled faintly.  
  
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Curly,” he whispered.  
  
_When the nurses they came  
Said, "It's come back again"  
I wasn't expecting that_  
  
The day Harry left Louis was a Thursday in November, just as cold and grey as one might imagine. Since Harry hadn’t wanted to spend his last few months in a hospice, and Louis had gladly agreed to care for his husband at home, it was up to Louis to make sure Harry had everything he needed. Had he been younger, he would’ve pointed out how the roles were changed, him cooking and cleaning for Harry instead of the other way around. But Louis didn’t have it in him to crack jokes about it. The heavy feeling behind his ribs that had moved into his body during that one catastrophic doctor’s appointment a few months earlier, had nested in him.  
  
When Louis woke up that morning, put his aching feet in those sheepskin slippers Harry insisted on buying him to go up and put on a kettle, he could feel it in his gut. A throbbing sadness, witnessing of alluding, indescribable grief. But Louis pushed it away, as he brewed Harry’s cup as he liked it best, in that flowery mug he had gotten from one of their grandchildren last Christmas.  
  
“Harry, my love, I’ve got your tea for you,” he said with a soothing voice as he re-entered their bedroom with a breakfast tray. He didn’t walk as fast as he could only a year ago, and it was hard remembering a time where these stiff legs would easily wrap around Harry’s head.  
  
Harry stirred, but didn’t open his wrinkled eyelids. Louis put down the tray at the bedside table, and sat down on the bed by Harry’s hips. He patted the pale face of the love of his life, before stroking a strand of curly hair out of Harry’s eyes. The chocolate curls where now silvery grey, but the locks remained, and for a man of 78 years, he had a surprisingly thick head of hair.  
  
“Harry? Don’t you want a sip of tea? It’s in your favourite cup,” he tried.  
  
“Umhf… Is it the white cup with the blue flowers?” Harry mumbled, still not opening his eyes.  
Louis smiled.  
“Yes, of course.”  
  
“And is it English breakfast -“  
  
“English breakfast-tea brewed for seven minutes with a little splash of almond milk? Yes dear.”  
  
At that, Harry opened one eye, and for a second, he looked like the 20-year-old Louis once had found in his bed after a successful first date.  
  
“Thank you, babe,” Harry cooed, trying to sit up in the bed but settling for a half-sitting position, sipping on his cup of morning tea.  
  
“I know you still don’t trust me around a frying pan -“  
  
“For good reason” Harry muttered into his tea.  
  
“- but I can make a mean cup of tea, you don’t have to worry about that,” Louis insisted, stroking Harry’s hip absent mindedly, drinking in the sight of him. How could his heart still beat so hard for this man?  
  
“I know I know, I fully trust you, honey,” he smiled weakly, continuing to sip on his tea, but not touching the sandwich Louis had made him.  
  
“You need to eat too,” Louis reminded him.  
  
“Yes yes, I’ll do it later,” Harry dismissed him, and they fell back into silence. Harry drinking, Louis patting, the wind whistling outside the slightly grimy windows.  
  
“You should pay Jonathan to clean the windows for you,” Harry suggested with a factual tone. “He might only be eleven, but he’s very money hungry already.”  
  
Louis smiled, thinking about their youngest grandson. Harry was probably right.  
“For us” Louis corrected, and Harry didn’t answer him.  
  
Half of his tea left, Harry carefully placed it back on the tray with shaking hands. His breathing was shallower than just earlier that morning.  
  
“Do you know why I love that cup so much?” Harry suddenly asked Louis. Louis shook his head. “Charlotte asked me what my favourite colour was, and I told her it was the blue of grand papa’s eyes. And she managed to find a teacup with the perfect shade” Harry smiled, reminiscing.  
Louis’ heart took a leap, almost painful for such an old man, and he lifted Harry’s large hand slowly to his face.  
  
“I love you more than anything,” Louis said, kissing the pads of Harry’s fingers. The old man smiled up at him, dimples hidden among his many wrinkles but still visible.  
  
“There has been no man luckier than I, during all these years we’ve been together,” Harry breathed, and the finality of his words made them both realise what was coming.  
  
“I’ll miss you so much” said Louis, tears leaking from his eyes  
  
“Not as much as I’ll miss you,” answered Harry, a weak smile on his pale lips.  
  
And he held Louis’ hand, as he slouched down a bit in their bed, making himself comfortable for another nap. But as he closed his eyes, he never opened them again. One shallow breath, before Louis felt the grip around his hand loosen. And he knew that now, he was alone, for the first time in over 50 years. So he leaned close, one last time.  
  
“I’ll see you soon again, my love,” Louis whispered, pressing his lips to Harry’s pale forehead, tears dripping down his creased face.  
  
_Then you closed your eyes  
You took my heart by surprise  
I wasn't expecting that_


End file.
